


Red Zone

by NaiKireiYuki



Category: Eremin - Fandom, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Eremin - Freeform, F/M, Football, M/M, NFL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9320540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaiKireiYuki/pseuds/NaiKireiYuki
Summary: As a major league football player, Eren has many expectations to adhere to. When to train, how to execute plays, and how to react under pressure. After a chance encounter with Jean’s financial advisor Armin Arlert, Eren discovers these expectations are the least of his concern.





	1. First Down

**Author's Note:**

> Eremin and football? I think yes.

Eren tossed his gear into his locker and blew down with a heavy sigh. After this three-hour game with the New Orleans Saints, he felt obligated to partake in a yearlong hibernation. He was considering confining himself to his house until practice the following Tuesday. They had persevered with the win today. Yet, he still felt like the challenge far outweighed the final reward. Considering they were only able to beat the offending team by a mere field goal, he did not think of his performance as “stellar.” They had been equally matched the entire game, scoring tit for tat. Their head coach Erwin Smith had ultimately rescued the game. He was gifted with superb time management skills and had strategically used the remaining timeouts to tip the scale in their favor. The clock had been reduced to one second. By then, all the fans in the stadium had accepted the Saint’s imminent defeat.

During the course of the game, he threw for 209 yards. He threw two touchdown passes and ran in the last touchdown himself. He had avoided getting sacked and hadn’t fallen victim to any interceptions.

He was expecting to capitalize on home field advantage by playing in San Francisco’s Levi Stadium. Unfortunately, it gave him little edge. The crowd’s uproar did not ignite urgency—rather it caused his crippling anxiety to crescendo.

His brain had finally registered that they had won the game. Yet, he still wasn’t necessarily pleased with the outcome. He left the field questioning whether he was a good quarterback. He often suspected that he just blessed by an exceptional defensive and offensive line. It was even possible that he just encountered frequent strokes of luck.

His self confidence plummeted and the self-deprecating thoughts nagged at him. He tried to bury the intense unease hammering at his epicenter but it was still rearing its ugly little head.

He needed to decompress. So he was going to do just that—in a bar. He was aware that he was in inappropriate attire. On the fly, he had only been able to scrounge up a pair of jogger sweats and a hoodie. Regardless, he had still promised to meet Jean so they could go together to meet Reiner and Berthold downtown.

He’d rather hang out with Jean than have any discussion with the media. He declined to do a press conference and he avoided every single invasive question. The last thing he needed was a platform to prattle on about his performance as a quarterback.

Last season, he was more than happy to do a press conference and discuss highlights when everything felt new and the atmosphere was carefree. But after procuring a 15-2 professional record at the age of 22, he felt himself become barricaded by bricks of pressure. From fans, from sports experts, and from his own teammates. Suddenly, he was expected to produce the same results again, again, again, and again… Presumably until the end of his career.

This year, he was while still labeled by the league as ‘the rookie out of University of Southern California,’ but somehow still the savior of 49ers. The paradoxical premise brought him more mayhem than he originally thought.

He already had many critics and people were very skeptical of his skills—some even chalking it up to sheer luck rather than raw talent. He tried to tune out the deafening white noise and the doubtful whispers but he could still hear the radio silence of his confidence.

He slowly opened the car to his 2016 Mercedes with a sigh.

He was dreading seeing Jean longer than necessary. Admittedly, he wasn’t particularly fond of Jean but he was the offensive tight end of the 49ers. They were obligated to have a working relationship. Despite this heightened sense of purpose, they still often had trouble cooperating on the field and difficulty communicating off the field. Eren tried not to let the tension and bad blood ruin their chemistry during game time. Many a times they were able to put their beef aside, although they weren’t always successful. Their clashes did tend to overflow into their ability see eye to eye on game night when they failed to make complete passes on important downs.

Eren barely considered Jean remotely tolerable. While he appreciated that their rivalry was shrouded with mutual respect of one another’s natural talent, he was still exasperated about the nature of their frayed relationship.

He turned the ignition and prepared to meet his problematic teammate.

Jean was currently at a lounge. He was reportedly putting the final touches on a 42 million dollar contract for 5 years. He recalled, Jean saying he only had 48 hours to solidify an agreement with the San Francisco 49ers. In the weeks prior, Jean was trying to negotiate with their lawyers. He sought to shorten his contract and increase the original $200,000 signing bonus. This was combined with the $300,000 bonus for every game that he is active on the roster and on the field.

Eren commended Jean for being strategic about his finances. He was taking advantage of an opportunity to maximize his earnings. Usually in this industry, people their age didn’t manage their investments or endorsement deals properly. So he was pleasantly surprised to learn that Jean was increasing his potential net worth.

When he arrived, he planned on remaining quiet until they ironed out all the details or at least until the deal satisfied Jean.

Upon being greeted by the polite hostess staff, where his fame afforded him the luxury of not having to state his name or who he was looking for. He was just simply informed that he should take the elaborate neon lighted staircase to the second floor.

Apparently, Jean had siphoned off a secluded spot upstairs in the underrated lounge. It was quiet aside from the soft hum of music downstairs. They clearly wanted minimal distractions from the task at hand.

The bright red couches and low lights greeted him before his testy teammate could. Jean was huddled over a folder of presumably important documents with a man that Eren had never met before. The man had a pair of black-rimmed eyeglasses perched on his nose, bundled in a burgundy duffle jacket, and business casual attire. With such a youthful appearance, he didn’t appear to be a day over 20. His pale blond hair was tucked into a neat bun. As he lingered in the doorway—he was struck with a pair of vibrant, Mediterranean blue eyes. _The vivacious eyes of a dreamer and an optimist._

Paralyzed, Eren loomed aimlessly, neglecting to say hello to either party—apparently disoriented by the flush of apprehension. Instead, he drowned in the innocent eyes peering at him.

Jean looked up from the paper that he was holding, not seeming to notice how rattled Eren was. “Hey.”

“Hi,” The soft voice chimed from the chair next to Jean. The tender tenor to the delicate voice confirmed to Eren that he wasn't just the standard human. He was a virtuous demigod. The kind that saves mankind from wars, rescued the faithful from famine, and restored righteousness in the land.

Eren approached them—realizing that he hadn’t really been breathing since he entered the doorway. He hovered near the edge of the table waiting for either his voice to reenter his body or someone to address him. Whichever came first.

He tried to shake off his change in demeanor but he was failing miserably.

“Eren, this is Armin Arlert. He’s my financial advisor. He handles all my money and assets. And I don’t know what I would do without him.”

The ambient lighting made it even harder to resist the urge to stare. And God knows he was staring…

As Armin extended his hand with a gracious smile, Eren had a million questions and then suddenly none at all. Eren felt his heart detach from a fragile string and beeline straight into his stomach. He willed a calm mask to disguise his disconcertion as his hand met Armin’s. Expectedly, it was soft and warm—not to mention, it fit perfectly within the comfort of his hand. Nonetheless, the soft hand administered a firm, commanding handshake.

Eren was impressed.

“It’s a pleasure to _finally_ meet you,” Armin gushed, lively admiration and appreciation dripping from his tongue. His sweltering; sweet voice was smooth and wholesome like honey. A voice that he was sure that he wouldn’t mind hearing often.

Eren discerned the words carefully and felt his conscious get thrown into another tailspin. He was dangerously accustomed to people trying to flatter him. _“Nice to meet you.”_ —It was a line that Eren experienced all too often. Usually all the flattery and pleasantries in tact. Happy at the prospect of meeting a possible Future Hall of Famer. Proud of introducing themselves to a professional NFL player. All with the hopes of making a lasting impression. He was prone to be cynical when it came to meeting people, but this time he couldn’t be more content. Armin’s captivation was genuine. He didn’t appear to be just fascinated with the name rattled off by ESPN but sincerely inspired.

The proof lied in their unwavering eye contact.

Eren took the opportunity to study every little feature that his mind could conceivably relish in. As he shamelessly analyzed Armin with fine precision, his memory banks consumed every single detail, mentally photographing it all. He even noticed the way that his sultry bangs cascaded his long, dark lashes and the way his arresting and inviting full pink lips complimented his high cheekbones.

His effervescent smile resulted in Eren feeling like he was melting under the Indian sun.

“The pleasure is all mine. Are you a fan?”

Armin’s grin widened and he permitted a small chuckle to slip out.

Eren couldn’t recall a time that one of his questions solicited such a precious reaction.

Armin withdrew his hand and he looked at Jean. “If I admit to having a jersey and shouting at the TV regularly… is that considered conflict of interest?” Armin asked for confirmation about his conditional confession. His pure smile shifted to a devious one as he listed to Jean’s side.

Jean’s eyes narrowed to slits. “If it’s my jersey that you own, then no.”

Armin laughed mischievously and bit his lip. “Then… I admit to nothing.”

The statement disgruntled Jean. He gripped his pen tighter and his mouth formed a thin line. Eren could sense the envy radiating from Armin indirectly just admitting to owning a “Jaeger” jersey.

Eren snorted. He couldn’t believe this beautiful creature was an exclusive fan of his.

He was aggressively fighting the smile twitching onto his lips. He didn’t need to gloat about the admission. He was sure Jean’s ego was already rubbing it in his face for him.

It hadn’t been long since he had met Armin but he was already feeling like a moth to a candle.

He sat beside Armin as the two conducted their business, airing on the side of caution. He didn’t even trust himself to breathe too hard. Actually… to breathe at all.

Armin was softly talking and guiding Jean through the paper work, explaining all the parts that were confusing or misleading.

Jean nodded, affirming that he understood. He printed his signature on the line.

While Jean was preoccupied, Armin briefly turned his attention to Eren. “You smell nice.”

Astonished, Eren stammered out a response. “T-hanks. I mix it myself.”

“Mm, you do a good job. I _really_ like it.” Armin looked at him, evidently enchanted. He adjusted his glasses and returned to dispelling the lawyer-speak in Jean’s initial contract.

“Thank you…” Eren swallowed, lightheaded, and really tempted to blame all of his dramatic physical afflictions on Armin. He remained quiet—hoping and praying that Armin didn’t hear his heart racing behind his ribcage. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck and he felt his stomach receive an impromptu cramp.

He didn’t know how to categorize what he was feeling. Fascination? Maybe. Curiosity? Sure. Attraction? Well… There was nothing wrong with a man being attracted to another man. They usually just called that being— _woah_.

Armin briefly scanned over the last papers. “Okay, I think you can send it over to your lawyer to be finalized.”

“Think he can read it over in time?” Jean asked, his worriment apparent.

“Shouldn’t you have this done weeks ago? Jean, get your life together.” Eren grumbled with a sneer to match.

Jean stopped stacking his important document to glare at Eren. “You’re criticizing me but do you even have a financial advisor?”

“No… I never thought I needed one.”

“Eren, we get paid millions of dollars. Maybe we should get someone that specializes in numbers, budgeting, and managing our money. We have no idea what the future holds. Whether that be an injury or an unexpected contract retraction.”

Eren huffed. He hated that Jean was remotely correct about anything. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

Armin stood from the couch and opened his wallet. “I can be your advisor.” He gave a reassuring smile.

“I’ll give you my card in case you ever want to set up an appointment. I’m a call away.”

He offered over the promised business card. “There you are. I can evaluate all your assets.”

Eren took the card and suddenly felt like a kid that had free reign in the local candy store.

“You already secured one Super Bowl ring—you should safeguard your future too.”

“ _Thanks_.” Eren smiled at the card fondly.

_Phone number and email._

He looked up from the card information, continuing to grin gratefully.

“You’re welcome.” Armin said courteously, his cheeks tingeing a dusky pink.

Eren automatically felt a bit lighter now—Armin’s warmth thawing the icicle of defeat piercing his chest from earlier.

Maybe this season wouldn’t be so bleak after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are moving up the field!
> 
> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	2. 2 & 5

“Maybe I should laminate this shit,” Eren whispered to himself, handling the precious business card with care as he pulled it from his wallet.

At the bar that night, he couldn’t focus on anything but the divine contours of Armin’s face. Although Armin had bid them farewell after completing the rewrite of Jean’s contract, Eren’s memories of him continued to vividly dance in his head. Silky blond hair—brilliant blue eyes and a wit to match.

He didn’t need a mountain of evidence as proof that Armin capable of doing his job. Eren always found Jean too neurotic—so he couldn’t imagine him hiring just anyone to manage his finances. It was a sensitive topic that had a lot of room for error. Jean would only accept the finest. Thy name was Armin.

Eren had spent a little bit of time contemplating over what his true intentions were with him accepting Armin's offer. He was pleased about the prospect of organizing his finances but he was thrilled at the thought of spending time with Armin. Hearing his beautiful voice. And looking into those enchanting aquamarine eyes.

After arriving home from the bar last night, he realized that he had never been nervous about meeting someone before. Nor had he had never cared to make a positive first impression—until now.

Studying the minimalist business card, Eren fought the temptation to text him. It was convenient but it also was deemed unprofessional. He didn’t want Armin to think that he was the typical impulsive athlete with no decorum.

While, he suspected that many people were really in love with the character that was personified by news outlets, he was not seeking to have a caricature to be glorified. He desired to gain respect the old-fashioned way rather than be swarmed with blind admiration.

Choosing to make a phone call instead of a text wasn’t going to accomplish his endeavor but it certainly was a start.

He had been awake since 5 AM because the team was scheduled to complete the strict regimen they had to maintain their playing record. Today didn’t involve physical practice but they did have a series of meetings to attend. From about 7 to 8, they usually were lifting weights but today was the day after the game and Erwin didn’t permit them to put strain on their overwrought muscles. Lunch was in full swing. Given all the other inopportune occasions scattered throughout this day, he thought that this was a better time than any to make the phone call.

Ring… Ring. Ring.

It was 2:47 on a Monday afternoon so if he didn’t answer—

“Hello?”

And Eren felt like a lump of coal was lodged in his throat. Damnit, that angelic voice weakened his resolve. He was muted, fighting for some semblance of the determination to just—communicate.

The phone trembled in his sweaty palm as he tried to find the words to indicate that another human was in fact on the other end of the phone. Chatter buzzed in the background and his head was foggy and unstable.

“ _Hello_?”

“Uh, hey. It’s Eren.”

“Oh! Hi, Eren. How are you?”

“I—” _Keep picturing you every waking second. Hearing your soothing voice in my ears. Feeling my heart shimmy in my chest every time I look at your name_ —“think I’m okay.”

“Think?” An ethereal laugh. “I hope you are actually doing okay.” His tone dipped into one of genuine concern. “ _Are you_?”

Eren felt himself loosen up considerably. “Yeah, I am...” He felt himself nearly falter. “How are you?”

“I’m doing alright, I guess…” Armin sighed and Eren felt a deep pang of sympathy.

“Anything I can do to help?” Eren instinctively asked—feeling rather obligated. After Armin had unknowingly lifted the weight of vicious anxiety off of his shoulders Sunday night, he felt indebted.

“…Oh Eren, that’s very kind of you but I’ll... I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” Eren wasn’t convinced but he wasn’t going to pry.

Armin then tried to change tempo and sound more upbeat. “What can I help you with?”

“Well, I’m taking you up on your offer to be my financial advisor.”

“Oh—really? _T-thank you_.” His tone expressed how gracious and unexpectedly surprised he was.

“No need to thank me. Pretty sure you’ve proven yourself enough. Jean trusts you, so I’m convinced you’re the real deal.”

Armin released a soft gasp. “Wow, this is the only job I’ve ever been hired for where I only needed one reference.”

Eren chuckled; feeling more relaxed in comparison to yesterday afternoon.

“So, when would you like to meet?”

“I have practice today until 7. Maybe after? About 8? If that’s okay with your schedule. We can meet at the café off Broadway.”

“That’s perfect. I have something to look forward to now.”

Eren felt his cheeks prickle with a rising heat.

“Yeah.” His dry mouth tried to catch up with his racing brain neurons. “I do too.”

“Great.” He could practically feel Armin’s beautiful smile radiating through the phone. “I’ll see you then. Have a great afternoon!”

“You too. Bye.”

Eren felt his tense arm go limp. He allowed his grip on the phone to loosen and let it fall to his side.

He thought that this area was secluded enough that his preoccupied teammates wouldn’t notice that he had snuck off to make this private call. But as usual, he miscalculated the weight of his absence.

Reiner was approached him with his trademark teasing smile. “Hey, you’re all red.” Reiner batted at Eren’s particularly fit chest. In jest, he rested the back of his hand on Eren’s forehead. “Who gave my little bro a fever?” He smiled—reveling in the fact that aside from being employed as the offensive line backer that he was also in the business of taunting Eren. All with love of course.

Eren felt his heart selfishly hammer hard. He wasn’t sure that he was going to make out alive after this moment.

_Yeah, I was just talking to Jean’s financial advisor that I also want to be my financial advisor because Jean’s financial advisor is really appealing. Did I mention that this financial advisor is a man?_

Eren thoughts were still prancing around Armin, yet he still couldn’t muster an appropriate answer to Reiner’s question.

He usually wasn’t a fan of lying but he knew he couldn’t be honest about the origin of his “fever.” He could, however, deflect with general information—if his mouth could move that is.

“Let me guess?” And even though Eren didn’t consent to his approximate assessments, Reiner continued on. “Cupid shot you in the ass?”

Bert hastily found them both at the end of the hallway. “Hey, Reiner, Levi said it’s time for our meeting.”

The both were visually unnerved. They still had a few minutes before the scheduled offense meeting but they knew that if they arrived to the room “on time” they would be conventionally be demonized as late by their offense coach. After their difficult game, yesterday, they didn’t also want a tongue lashing about punctuality from their coach.

“Shit, coming.” Eren muttered, feeling himself become even more unraveled than he had ever been in a 24-hour period.

Getting to see Armin later overshadowed everything else. He felt a warmness swirl in the pit of his belly and a hyper focus intensify. It was a surprising but blaring motivation to improve the craft that Armin admired him for in the first place.

After they replayed the tapes from the previous game, Levi curtly let them know that they were not successful executing the plays that they discussed the week prior. Eren was aware that he didn’t follow the written plays that he and Levi exclusively went over. He was mulling it over as he left the 49er’s training facility for the night, returning home before he met with Armin.

Although he personally wasn’t interested—he and Erwin were required to talk to the media. As soon as they asked the dreaded question, _“What did you think about your performance?”_ He was accused of being withdrawn and particularly aloof by the Fox journalists.

He felt a bout of anxiety trickle to the tips of his fingers as he thought about their next game at the Houston Texans. He was worried… They both had a record of 2-0. Which meant that one ball house would leave with their first loss of the season.

“Shit.” He felt the concern mount as he arrived at his destination.

He parked on the side of the street and left his car. He went to the front of the small café, sure to bring all the documents that Armin had requested he bring via text message. Eren recognized the signature look of the bun and glasses immediately as he advanced toward the small building. Armin stood very still outside of the entrance, looking in the opposite direction. Today was warmer than it was yesterday, so he wasn’t in a jacket. This time he was in an ivory, drop shoulder cashmere sweater with a pair of beige carrot pants and black chukka booties. Eren choked on the sight. In glowing evening sun, Armin looked especially radiant.

Eren wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to contain himself as well as he was able to yesterday afternoon. It didn’t take a licensed doctor to figure out that a lack of air was not healthy for normal brain activity.

“Eren. Hi.” Armin smiled, seemingly nervous as he pushed up his glasses.

“Hey,” Eren didn’t want to sound as exasperated as he did but he couldn’t really prevent himself from being affected by Armin’s presence. He stared into Armin’s eyes, falling into a nebulous ocean of blue. “Um, Eren…”

Eren subconsciously felt himself rise above the water’s surface and metaphorically gasp for air. “Yeah?”

“Shall we?” Armin politely said, pointing the glass door.

“Uh, yeah sorry.”

“No, you’re fine.” Armin politely reassured Eren.

Eren pulled the door open and stood to the side. “After you.”

Armin smiled, feeling a blush attack his cheeks. “Oh, thank you so much.” He entered the café and Eren followed.

“You’re very welcome.”

Eren stood behind Armin and called the attention of the hostess. “For two. Preferably a booth.”

The woman threw her hands over her mouth. “Oh my gosh!” She fanned herself. “Anything for you!” She quickly grabbed two menus from the desk behind her. “Please, follow me.” She scurried down the isle to an isolated section and placed down the menus.

They did as they were told. After they were seated, the hostess combined her hands gleefully. “Please let me know if you need _anything_. Enjoy.”

Loud squeaks and incessant chatter between multiple employees exploded in the foyer of the café. “Oh my GOD! He’s even hotter in person!” They roared with laughter.

“Oh my god. I know! Ugh my husband!”

Armin sat down. Eren stiffly sat down as well.

“Would you look at that? We found the long lost wife you didn’t even know you had.” Armin smiled, opening up the menu.

 

“I wonder how many of those I have.” Eren sighed.

“Do you really want to know?” Armin peeked out from behind the menu.

“You’re right. I don’t want to know.”

Armin laughed and Eren felt his heart ping with a bombshell of joy. He didn’t really know what he did to deserve to witness such a divine display of beauty.

Armin pushed the menu off to the side and pulled out a few gel pens and put them on table. Eren gave Armin the files that he had requested from him in their text messages.

“Before we do anything, let’s talk money.” Eren pulled out a general contract that he had drafted by his former lawyer for employees that worked on his “team.” He took out one of his own pens and filled in Armin’s name on the paper.

Eren looked at the portion of the income. “Do you have a set pay rate for your clients?”

“Well, I usually work by the hour.” Armin tapped his chin thoughtfully. “But that can get a little tricky.”

“Can I just give you a number and you tell me if it’s ok?”

Eren wrote down the figure on a napkin and folded it.

Armin watched on and then carefully took the napkin from Eren. His eyes glazed over the writing and folded up the napkin frantically with a gasp.

“Eren, you can’t pay me that!”

Eren frowned. “And why not?”

“ _1.5 million?_ That’s _way_ too much money to pay me,” Armin harshly whispered.

All Eren heard is _‘I’m not worth that much._ ’

With that, he stubbornly refused, despite Armin’s adamancy. “Well, I’m not paying you any less than that.”

Armin uneasily exhaled. According to Forbes, last year Eren made $20.5 million as the starting quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers. He was also paid in several endorsement deals—which increased his annual income substantially. It wasn’t that Eren couldn’t afford to pay him this suggested salary; he just didn’t know why he would. “I really think you should reconsider but I can’t change your mind.”

“I’ll pay you every two weeks.” Eren recorded it on the contract and pushed it over for Armin to sign it. Armin read through it carefully before signing it.

Armin slid the black fastened folder that Eren brought along with him to his side of the table. “Well, the first thing we’re working on is endorsement deals. You’ve only been in the national football league for one season but I don’t think you have enough endorsement deals. It’s best that we increase your profits and then organize the existing ones.”

He looked through the contracts that Eren provided to him. “Budweiser, Gatorade, and you got an offer from Nike?”

“Yeah. A proposal.”

“You haven’t accepted it though, right?”

“I haven’t.”

“That’s an enormous deal. You should meet with them.”

“I guess I could.”

Eren searched his email and found the number of the executive that called him. “Would you mind going with me? I’m in between agents. I believe that you’re just as good.”

“Oh um, sure. I’ll move some things around in my schedule so I can go.”

Eren called the Nike executive and scheduled a meeting for Wednesday afternoon at 1:30 PM. He was sure that Erwin and Levi would allow him to go after field practice finished at 11:00 AM.

“I can reschedule my two meetings that I have after one o’clock for Thursday.” Armin nibbled his lip as he scanned through his schedule. Armin rested his chin in the palm of his hand. Eren glanced at him and got struck with an authentic domestic vibe.  

Eren hesitated as he responded to the email from the executive named Darren confirming their appointment.

“Here goes nothing.”

* * *

Armin couldn’t believe that he had finally met with THE EREN JAEGER. Twice. And was now employed by him. It was unbelievable… He had been blessed with the opportunity to shake his hand and breathe his air. He could hardly contain himself—with Eren brandishing that charming smile. He had to condense the anxiety that threatened to stifle him where he sat. He was absolutely smitten with Eren's calm, polite attitude. It was completely contradictory of the pensive, fiery quarterback that he witnessed on the field.

He was so exhilarating to watch that Armin never dare miss a game featuring the star quarterback. He was enamored with Eren’s skill. His ability to move within the pocket and acknowledge all eligible receivers. With that beautiful spiral he put on the football. Every week of the season, he humbly showcased his talent. A trademark of a true athlete.

In person, he tried not drool over his beautiful olive skin that looked like rich caramel. His impressionable silver eyes were so intense, Armin wasn’t sure he would be able to survive any length of eye contact. He was such an Adonis—a true beauty.

Armin checked his phone and sighed. He was waiting for Eren to arrive at the meeting that they scheduled with Nike. Eren wasn’t late but Armin was half an hour early. He didn’t want to risk being late.

He looked at the high profile offices and then at the immaculate glass windows. The black and silver plated marble design of the Nike head office was precocious and intimidating but it didn’t deter him. Instead, he turned his attention to the beautiful San Francisco skyline view from the skyscraper. Unfortunately, it was little comfort to his pre-meeting jitters.

He was dressed in a crisp, white dress shirt with a black suit that he had spent all last night meticulously ironing. He needed to look his best so he donned his best suit.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Frazzled, he checked the message.

It was Eren.

_Hey, you are there?_

Armin quickly responded.

 _Yes. I’m on the 11_ _th_ _floor._

Eren quickly wrote back.

_Coming up now._

Armin choked up. God, this was the third time that he was going to see Eren in person and it wasn’t getting any easier. If anything, it was getting harder and harder to appear natural and not admit that he—

The elevator swiftly opened and Eren’s shiny black dress shoe led the way. The doors revealed Eren’s blank expression. Armin was jolted from his trench of thoughts and pushed up his glasses higher on the bridge on his nose. When his blue eyes met with grey ones, he was welcomed with a playful smile. “Hey, _Armin_.”

Lord, Armin had never heard anyone say his name so warmly. Almost like he had been eager to see him. His eardrums quivered and he was afraid that he was going to dissolve into another dimension at the mere sound.

He felt this spine erect involuntarily as his eyes absorbed Eren’s 6’4” athletic build accentuated in a sophisticated suit. The well-measured black suit jacket complimented the broad shoulders and defined chest muscles, also accented by the bright satin red tie. Armin noticed that his pecs flexed as he tucked his hands away in his pockets.

Eren… Eren was proof that god did make perfect specimens—in his image.

Armin felt his mouth inexplicably water as Eren stood in front of him.

“Hey…” Armin smiled, feeling his neck heat up. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Eren smiled, adjusting his tie. “Do I look okay? I tried to look as professional as possible.”

“You…” … _are the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen and if you’d let me, I’d ravish you on the spot._ “…Look extremely professional.”

“Okay good. _Definitely_ the look I was going for.”

Eren’s eyes unpredictably roved over him for a minute and he felt extremely insecure.

Did he look bad? Had he come across stupid? Was he staring too hard?

“You seem to be doing better. Are you?”

Armin’s jaw clenched and then relaxed. He did give Eren the impression that he was not doing well at all when they spoke Monday afternoon. Through all the media podiums he had to endure, possible plays that he had to remember, and other obligations, he still remembered that small detail about him. Well, that proved it. Eren wasn’t just a persona. He actually was kind and had the capacity to be concerned for someone’s wellbeing other than his own.

“Um, yeah… Now I am. Thanks for asking.”

“For what it’s worth… I can’t speak for my talents in the advice department but I’m a decent listener. If you ever needed anyone to talk to that is.”

“Oh… thank you Eren but I couldn’t impose such a burden on you.” Armin shook his head and waved his hand fervently.

“Armin, look… I promise, I wouldn’t mind.” Eren grinned and Armin felt like his cheeks were being roasted by heat from Death Valley.

_Did he really just offer to be a venting space?_

“Eren Jaeger?” A middle-aged man emerged from the room behind them.

“Yes?” Armin answered. Eren didn’t realize that he smirked when Armin answered in his place.

“We’re ready for you.”

With that go ahead, they all gathered in the bare office. Eren and Armin sat beside one another in front of the desk as Darren closed the door behind them.

“Hello, my name is Darren.”

“Armin Arlert.” The two shook hands.

“Nice to meet you,” Darren said. “And of course _the_ Eren Jaeger.”

“The one and only.” Darren heartily shook Eren’s hand.

Darren finally took a seat and began shuffling through several documents. “So of course we’re here to talk about Eren’s endorsement deal that I offered him.” Darren pulled out a few sheets of papers from the pile, skimming them to prove that he was correct about the contents of the contract.

"So… We can offer him a portion of the revenue from the earnings we get from promotional material that he provides. 100 million dollars over 5 years. And control over his likeness for promotional material."

It was similar to the deal that they had offered to him at the end of last season. To Eren that sounded appropriate until he heard Armin indignantly laugh.

"That's funny but that's not gonna work for us."

"You see you're going to pay Mr. Jaeger royalties, you're going to pay him for his time and effort. You're also going to pay him to use his likeness and story to propel your company and incentives to remain a part of this brand. And here's why.”

Armin pointed to the poster that was asymmetrically aligned on the wall beside them. "Eren Jaeger embodies the meaning of _your_ slogan is ‘ _Just Do It_ .’ Paid his way through school. Got a 3.7 GPA and won the national championship. Made a pipeline into the NFL as the 1st round draft pick. Then he practically replicated his results with 15-2 record and a super bowl championship. Not to mention his MVP award. And as you can see, he's well on his way to carving a place for himself in the history books. _Again_."

Armin sat back and glanced at a silent Eren. “So now that I've elaborated, I have to ask from a business prospective, if you really value your brand and really want to put pressure on your competitors, then would you really let my client walk?"

Armin quirked an eyebrow behind his luscious bangs. “Or would you do anything to make sure he's the main ambassador?”

“Well, I mean wouldn't anyone?” Darren emptily answered.

“Then _just do it_?” Armin whispered, shaking his head.

“Um… Okay… We'll draft another contract,” Darren suggested, mentally whirling from the stumbling amount of logic he just had to digest.

“See, I just had a sinking suspicion that I wasn’t going to like your amended contract very much so I drafted one myself. You can just amend yours to match it.” Armin pulled out a contract and handed it over to Darren. Darren tensely took the contract.

“Thanks, Darren,” Armin said kindly as turned back to Eren.

Armin really didn’t trust establishments like these to speak freely. If he had anything to say, he had to practice the art of being discreet.

He grasped the lapel of Eren’s suit jacket. He leaned in—his lips caressing the shell of Eren’s ear. “I hope you don’t mind. I like to always to be prepared.” Shivers jolted through Eren’s veins as he felt Armin’s hand glide from his suit jacket to gently squeeze his right wrist. “And I didn’t know if they needed a guideline to follow. It’s the first thing that you’ve asked me to do. I didn’t want to disappoint.”

All the hairs on Eren’s body stood on end.

Eren turned to Armin—knowing that Armin was seeking his validation.

 _His_ validation.

Armin wanted to make the best deal for him but he also wanted to impress him.

The blonde waited with bated breath for Eren’s response. Their nose tips were a hair away from touching and nothing but a thin veil of self-control prevented Eren from closing the gap.

“I’m…” Eren inhaled. “Blown away.”

Armin looked like a ripe tomato, breathing out sigh of relief. He smiled and withdrew from too slowly for Eren’s comfort. Eren didn’t recall saying that he actually _wanted_ personal space.

“He’s actually going to change the contract.”

"As he should.” Armin practically huffed. “Good thing you never accepted this offer or the first one contract or we would have had to renegotiate it. Which is always harder than refusing to sign the contract and dispute the offer."

Armin’s eyes peered into Eren’s as he recognized his disparaging insecurities flash right before his eyes. "It’s not a myth. You're actually good, Eren... Don't let anything convince you otherwise."

_“…Don’t let anything convince you otherwise.”_

_“…Don’t let anything convince you otherwise.”_

_“…Don’t let anything convince you otherwise.”_

Eren’s tailored his stunned reaction as a reserved Darren returned to the room.

“We amended it.”

“Great.” Armin grabbed the paper and placed it on the table for he and Eren to review. Darren loomed over them as the duo looked on together. Armin turned to him and said in a drafty tone, “I’d like a moment to confer with my client."

Darren silently left the room—realizing that Armin was the legitimate business navigator that made people quiver with their intellect. He decided not to argue and go peacefully.

Armin skipped to the bulk of the contract. He scooted in closer so Eren could easily absorb everything he was saying. “250 million over 3 years plus a portion of the revenue and you get to choose which products by Nike you’ll endorse? Travel, with all expenses paid. Free products and free product testing. You’ll get paid $50,000 per statement about the company. You’ll also get $100,000 bonuses actually making appearances based on the product that you’re promoting for the company. I also worked in a protection that guarantees you can secure increases based off of your success. Also in the event that you get injured or can’t make an appearance somewhere, you’ll still be contractually signed but you just won’t be paid those bonuses. Also if Nike terminates the contract before three years has passed, they are obligated to pay out the rest of your contract and immediately stop using your likeness in any capacity.”

Armin looked at the contract, silently marveling at how identical it was to his original one. After scanned through the conditions, he decided that it was necessary to relay _all_ the information to Eren. “There is a morality clause so it does prevent you from immoral and contradictory behavior. So you’re barred from like wearing rival companies—like Adidas. So hide everything you have with Adidas on it.” Armin paused. “Do you have Adidas products?”

Eren whispered, “Yeah, I actually do.”

Armin bit his lip briefly. “Okay me too.” He looked back at the contract. “So we’ll hide those and we’ll request free Nike products so you can start wearing it on the field.”

“Sounds fantastic.” Eren nodded.

“Okay, sign here.” Eren borrowed one of Darren’s pens and scribed his messy signature exactly on the line.

“We're done!” Armin called back to Darren.

The older man sauntered back into the room. “Okay we'd like a copy of this and we'd like to know when you'd like to start having Eren be featured in your ads.”

“Next week, Friday evening?”

“Eren, does that work for you?” Armin asked quickly, flipping the contract back to the first page.

Eren nodded.

“Great, thanks.”

The meeting effectively ended as Armin collected the final stitches of paperwork. They formally said their goodbyes and arranged to exit the building.

Eren was still emotionally riled over what Armin had done for him. He made the conscious effort to prepare a contract for Nike—without anyone even suggesting he do so. Then he went on to flawlessly advocate for him—recapping all those facts without prompting. No one had ever defended him so unwaveringly before and he was overwhelmingly ecstatic about the exchange. The praise made him feel accomplished despite his debilitating anxiety stating the contrary.

Armin had singlehandedly handled this Nike meeting and had asserted his extensive corporate experience. As they stood waiting for the elevator, Eren gently nudged Armin with his forearm to capture his attention. “And you say that you don’t deserve ‘that much money.’" Eren scoffed with a whimsical smile. As they both entered the elevator, Armin laughed carelessly, holding his folder to his chest.

“You’re worth every red cent and then some.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are making progress! More on Armin next chapter??? Stay tuned. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, or about any questions or comments that you have.
> 
> Much love.


	3. 1 & 10

“AND TOUCHDOWN!” The announcer boomed into the microphone as fans flailed in the stands mindlessly. Eren bumped helmets happily with Reiner.

“ _That’s_ what I’m fucking talking about!” Eren yanked his chinstrap, freeing his helmet from his head.

After their celebration at the goal line, they cleared out of the end zone. They relocated their merriment to the sidelines as the third quarter came to an explosive close.

Eren sat on the sideline bench and gave a tortured sigh as he poured a bottle of water over his sweat matted hair. Although he was comfortably in the lead, he was terribly worried that the tide of the game could irrevocably be changed by a switch in momentum. With the score at a stationary 32 to 14, he knew that it was highly likely that they would remain in the lead but he couldn’t rule out the possibility of a victorious comeback. According to his anxiety, no matter what he or the team did, their imminent victory was always in peril. It never failed to leave him feeling emotionally incapacitated and helpless.

Erwin beaconed Eren over to go over some plays that they had planned for the season finale of the game. Erwin whispered to Eren behind his infamous lime green clipboard as the camera was fixated on them. Erwin and Eren came to a consensus about the final plays.

There were 3 interrupted downs from the Texans offense, allowing the 49ers to be unleashed on the field once again.

The Texans punted the ball. Eren executed a plan that allowed him to utilize Jean to his full potential. After Connie returned the ball for 55 yards to the Texans 15, Eren passed the ball to Jean for the remaining 15 yards. Another effortless touchdown.

Unfortunately, a flag was thrown on the play.

The homefield fans were waiting with bated breath. The referee came onto the field and announced, “Defense: Roughing the passer, 15-yard penalty, that will be enforced on the kickoff.”

“Get the fuck off me!” Eren growled. He fought to put himself upright from his forceful parallel position and pushed the 300-pound linebacker’s body weight off his rips with contempt. He had already rid himself of the ball. There was no reason for them to tackle him anymore. The players were only being athletically vindictive because of the score.

Still in celebratory mode, Reiner picked Eren up and spun him like a ballerina in the endzone.

The score board changed to reflect the immediate six points that would be awarded to them. San Francisco’s special teams gathered to kick the field goal for the remaining point that would make San Francisco’s score 39. After procuring the final point, the rest of the game fizzled out and the Texans fans were silent in the stadium. The standalone 49er fans roared from stands. As the play clock came down, both teams came out from the sidelines meeting with pleasantries. Eren shook hands with the quarterback and patted his shoulder. “Good game.” The quarterback nodded and returned the sentiment with a slap on the butt.

* * *

 

The ballhouse prepped to fly back to San Francisco. Eren was really glad to be free of having to play until a week from now. He entered the plane and they all prepared to take off, taking all safety precautions. As Eren sighed and rested his head against the headrest, his mind immediately piloted to Armin… His mind didn’t even glaze over the Nike deal or evaluating his assets, he just thought about how much he wanted to see Armin. Thoughtlessly, he decided to remedy the situation by digging into his pocket for his phone. He knew that it was early morning in California right now so he didn’t expect Armin to respond right away. Luckily, he was never a stickler about text messages. People were free to respond when they wanted. Especially someone as busy and as occupied as Armin. After he hit send, he opted to go to sleep until they landed- images of Armin dancing in his sweet dreams.

* * *

 A disheveled Armin awoke at 7 am, bright and early Monday morning. He had stayed up to watch Eren play. After Eren had secured the lead and it became certain that he was going to win, he was slapped with the lure of texting Eren, virtually patting him on the back. But as typed the message, he was suddenly hit with the reminder that he and Eren weren’t necessarily friends or even acquaintances… Rather client and service provider. Eren's number was for business use only—not as an instrument to gain his affections… better yet, congratulate him on being the best in the league. With a resigned sigh, he closed the messaging app and reluctantly went to bed.

To his surprise, he was met with a message from the same person that he had avoided contacting last night. “Eren” featuring the football and smile emoji awaited him generously on his screen. He rubbed his eyes to ensure that his freshly awoken brain wasn’t engineering the event to compensate for his wishful thinking. After staring at the message for a good five minutes, he realized that he hadn’t even paid the other urgent emails and reminders with a single iota of attention in lieu of the text from Eren. The message read:

_Hey, when can I see you again?_

_Hope you slept well last night._

_3:26 AM_

Armin’s heart staggered in his ribcage.

Did Eren just ask when he could see him again?

Without even a reference to the work that Armin had been doing for him?

Without context, it nearly sounded like Armin had just received a 21st century text from his boyfriend…

But he wasn’t going to be misled by the phrasing… Eren probably was just being informal—he _was_ nice guy and he didn’t mind being nice to him even though Armin worked for him. Which was great… It was always remarkable to meet someone that treated the janitor with the same respect as the CEO.

For someone that appeared so outwardly rowdy on the field, Eren was delightfully respectful and unexpectedly kind to him—even in private.  

Although Armin’s fingers were stunted, he managed to be careful enough to send the reply without errors.

_Thanks. Same to you!_

_I’m free tonight after 6._

With a little pep in his step, Armin got ready for work.

* * *

 Armin mindlessly scribbled on the edge of the flyer that the special guest that he received at the beginning of the presentation. He circled 6:30 pm about 15 times collectively over the course of fifteen minutes. It was the time that he and Eren had agreed to meet him this afternoon. He had told Eren that before they continued to organize a budget, he needed to evaluate his income and his assets. He needed Eren’s taxes in order to accurately calculate how they would proceed to make Eren wealthy and not just rich.

As the day progressed, he realized that he was already tightly strapped on energy and he was aware he was stretching himself a little too thin. But, it was Eren and he was willing to extend his long-winded daily agenda for him. A cup of coffee would be enough to remedy his exhaustion despite the fact that it would probably inhibit him from sleeping tonight.

Armin looked at his supervisor who was seated across the long conference table. He rolled his eyes and dropped his head into his hands, back slouched. His body language was a physical manifestation of a groan. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were met with the stern glare from the older man. Armin quickly straightened up his posture and realized that his supervisor had been looking at him the entire time. His supervisor’s agitated click of the pen told him that he was saving face for the firm right now.

“ _Sorry_ ,” He mouthed, his pen fidgeting in his hands. His supervisor looked away still displeased even with the apology.

Armin quietly sighed. He couldn’t wait to see Eren later. Lately, these small meetings were the only beacon of life in his mundane lifestyle. Until then, he would endure.

* * *

Eren was peeved by the press conference. Having to sit through a barrage of constant questions that didn’t have any variation from week to week were torturous.

_“How did you win the game?”_

_“How do you think you did?”_

_“Was there a winning strategy?”_

It was always draining and invasive. It had to be his least favorite activity about being a professional football player. More than the extensive and rigorous training, more than memorizing and practicing plays, and more than being punctual and strict about his discipline.

After the ordeal, he waited in the nearby park with his four years of tax returns as he saw Armin approaching. The sun settled behind the horizon resonating as a halo around Armin like a god. Eren felt his heartbeat dwindle as Armin cheerfully landed in front of him—and if he hadn’t seen him walk here he would have contended that he fell out of the gates of heaven.

Armin adjusted his black rimmed glasses with a his radiant smile.

“Heyyy, _Jaegerbomb_.”

With a twitch of his lip, Eren’s eyes gaze became sealed on Armin. He was commonly called that nickname on ESPN, NBC, and at USC, especially by his many adoring fans. He had never ascribed a value to the term, negative or positive. This was first time that he had actually found it endearing. Slowly a smile grew on his face as Armin practically squirmed with glee.

Armin felt his knees tremor with appreciation as looked up at the taller man. Not only was he standing in front of the victor of last night’s game, said winner was smiling at him. And although this wasn’t the only time that he had seen him smile, it felt like one of the most important time that he had bore witness to such pureness. He felt so lucky.

“You were _excellent_ last night," Armin said--and Eren couldn't help but wish that Armin was saying this about him for a 'different' reason.

“3 and 0.” Armin's smile emitted a victorious feeling that pelted Eren’s constantly withering confidence. Armin leaned in a bit, his smoky voice seizing Eren’s attention. “How does it feel?”

Eren felt Armin’s beacon of joy permeate through shadows of doubts—and smiled. “Nothing short of amazing.”

“Great because… I’m nothing short of amazed.” Armin gushed, ready to elaborate.

“I mean… the way you took advantage in the red zone… It was… undeniably brilliant. AND the line drive in the second quarter was so…” Armin’s cheeks were flushed with fervor and Eren couldn’t mask the smirk thriving on lips. He’d never seen someone quite so genuinely animated about his capabilities—to his face. And it was a sight to behold.

He saw the vibrant twinkle that danced in Armin’s eyes when he spoke about him. His astonishing, energetic eyes… were enough to ignite his enigmatic attraction to Armin.

Armin babbled, tripping over his words—even pushing stray hairs behind his ears.

Eren found the fumbling…oddly beautiful and somehow he felt like he couldn't get enough.

“Thanks _so_ much. Watched the whole game?”

“Of _course_ —I mean yes. I did…” Armin pushed up his glasses, feeling his lungs decompressing of air. The orange glow of the exiting sun illumed the beautiful silver eyes that were attached to him, analyzing his every move as he squirmed like a worm in fresh sod. He couldn’t help that he was involuntarily having a word vomit about the game with the culprit of his budding passions—Eren was just _so_ gorgeous…

“Uhm, anyway, where did you want to go? It’s rush hour and there’s probably not anywhere that's appropriate to do work.”

Armin frowned for the first time and Eren decided he never wanted to see him do that ever again.

Armin sighed. “Um, well it is kind of late. I’m sorry… I couldn’t leave the office any earlier today.”

Eren shook his head. “Armin, don’t worry about it.”

He still looked troubled until he seemed to have an eureka moment. “We can just um, uh, go to my house.” Armin offered with a shrug, looking for Eren’s consent to the impromptu idea.

Armin’s house? _Armin’s house_.

It occurred to him that in way—Armin was offering him a little insight into his world by sharing his personal space. He heart stalled a bit and he still failed to conceptualize the gesture.

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“No, not at all. Tonight?”

“Probably not t’night. I know you’re really tired.” Armin empathetically said, his voice dripping with compassion. Eren’s eardrums tingled at the celestial sound.

“You probably want to feel the comfort of your own bed sooner rather than later.”

“Yours works too,” Eren mumbled.

Armin’s eyebrows pulled together with confusion. “Huh? I didn’t hear you.”

Eren fleetingly considered repeating himself to see what Armin would do with his admission. But he tossed the idea when he realized that he would just be whipping a whirlpool of commotion.

“Nothing,” Eren said biting back the woeful inflection that threatened the answer.

“Oh…” Armin muttered. “Thursday?” Armin said looking at the calendar in his phone.

“Yeah, Cool… does about 8 work?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Armin smiled. “No problem.”

“Good night.”

Eren put out his hand for a high five. Armin responded in kind and lifted his hand to Eren’s.  Eren pulled his hand out of Armin’s reach jokingly. Armin pouted but didn’t comment as Eren laughed at his innocent reaction.

“Kidding.” He placed his hand back for Armin to high five.

Luckily, he fearlessly complied despite the chance that Eren could pull the same trick again. This time, Eren smoothly slipped his digits between Armin’s and gently squeezed. He immediately heard the hitch in Armin’s breath. The lack of dialogue told him that Armin’s brain was certainly outmaneuvering his mouth.

“Forgive me?”

“I’ll… um, consider it.”

Eren smiled with a light chuckle to match.

Eren had been so entranced and in tune to Armin’s expressions that the hadn’t even realized that his thumb was stroking the side of Armin’s index finger intimately. And while Eren could feel the undeniable magnetism, he was, for the first time in his life willing to be cautious on his own accord. It was painstaking to speculate about Armin about all hours of the day—only to see him in the flesh and be reduced to a sopping pile of mush that could barely lace together a coherent thought. He wasn’t used to feeling so disarmed but he couldn’t say that this type of vulnerability wasn’t building his character. And Lord knows, his patience.

“Maybe,” Eren’s eyes flickered to the concrete for a moment before they pinned Armin back in place. “I can make it up to you the next time I see you.”

Armin’s smile grew beyond any proportions that Eren had ever seen before. “I… wouldn’t mind that.”

Their eyes locked in the still of the night and the universe was sure that the same thought from both men united.

Then diverged as Armin sighed with his duty remaining with his perceived “professionalism”—and not his nagging desire to take Eren back to his house _right now_.

“I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah.” Armin nodded.

With that, the north and south magnets forcibly dislodged and went their separate ways.

* * *

 “Soon? That’s a whole fucking 48 hours!” Eren pulled the strings to his hoodie so tight that his face was no longer visible.

He thought he would last… He really did… But then he made the mistake of the century overstepping his wavering boundaries—and held Armin’s hand not just a brief handshake out of formality but _held_ his hand. For an extended period of time. It was so… _disconcerting._ Yes, he was annoyed. He woke up annoyed. Armin was soft and tender, the texture of his palm was so smooth—that he was even more drawn than ever before. He kept replaying the event in his head: the soft gasp, Armin’s gentle smile, the playful banter. And now, he had to wait to encounter Armin and his beautiful face for another _2 days_. And he knew that he gone through a rapid range of emotions but somehow before bed, he had settled on this fragile feeling.

He lured himself into thinking that he couldn’t be that disrupted mentally if he touched him—beyond their initial handshake. It would be fine… No big deal.

Although he was yelling to no one in particular, he had enviably captured Jean’s attention who was visibly annoyed by the outrageous outburst with no context.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be watching the tape about Green Bay? We reconvene in about 35 minutes.”

Eren released the ties to his hoodie to reveal his hostile expression. “ _Jean,_ if I had a fucking _dime_ for all the times you minded my fucking business, I’d be Warren Buffett rich! Fuck it—maybe even BILL GATES _wealthy_.”

“What the fuck is your problem!?” Jean screamed from where he sat.

Mikasa leaned into Eren’s slumped form, speaking firmly but with a sea of apprehension. “Are you okay? You seem irritated.”

Eren frowned, pulling the strings back as tight as they would go. “I’m fine.”

“Well, you just yelled at Jean.”

Bert took out one of his headphones out of his ears to briefly to interject. “I hardly think that’s an indication of anything,” He said in a whisper.

Mikasa shrugged. “True.”

“Anything that you want to talk about?”

“ _No_.” the sound of his voice was obscured by the hoodie fabric.

Mikasa knew better than to pry but she was concerned. She was aware that Eren naturally had a temper and was easy to provoke but she couldn’t pinpoint what happened during the practice regime that would have riled his feathers. Perhaps, it was something that had happened the day before?

“You’ve been the workout coach since we’ve got here—you _know_ how annoying he is.”

Mikasa closed her eyes and sighed. “Okay, I don’t mean to sound like the echo in the room but you do need to watch the tape.”

“Fine.” Eren said indignantly, grabbing the iPad and the pair of headphones beside him.

“You know that you always struggle against Greenbay’s defense. I think that you would actually benefit from actually analyzing the tape! Maybe you’d actually play better.”

Through the monstrous filter in his conscious all Eren heard was, _“You know you're a terrible football player and soon everyone will know too.”_

Eren froze and felt brain turn into radio static. He avoided the entire behemoth clawing at the edge he had gained from previous encouragement. So, he defaulted to what he knew. Mockery.

“Wowwww.” Eren pushed the right headphone into his ear pressing play on the Greenbay Packer’s defensive line video.

“What?” Jean asked lifting a thin brow.

“I didn’t know there was a frame in the video where I asked your fucking input. Who photoshopped that in there?” Eren shot a stoic glare across the room causing Jean to freeze in place.

“You’re a dickhead.”

Eren sneered, scoffing at the insult. “Takes one to know one—asshole.” With that, Eren immersed himself in the video.

* * *

 

As he stood in Armin’s doorstep, miraculously, Eren wasn’t annoyed anymore.

Eren was impressed by how immaculate Armin’s condo was. He anticipated that it was going to be captivated by Armin’s living quarters but it seemed to be routine that Armin always exceeded his expectations.

Eren realized that he could definitely ring the doorbell but he found that to be a little presumptuous of him. It was nearly like saying ‘ _I’m here and you need to open the door now—”_ He’d rather settle for a subtler and less obnoxious text message that indicated that he had arrived. Seconds after he hit send, he heard the pitter patter of feet on the floor on the other side of the door. Unbeknownst to him, he smiled at the innocent sound.  

“Hey, hey.” Armin grinned, peeking out from behind the door.

Eren pushed his right hand into his front jean pocket. “Hey there.”

“Come in!” Armin was chipper as he stepped aside with the glass infused door.

“Wow, your house is incredible.” Eren commented, looking at the crystalline chandelier that graced the foyer area, enthralled. Looking ahead, he was pleased by how clean and organized the black, white, and crimson theme of the living area. The couches were pristine and the silken pillows were orderly placed on the cushions. A large, impeccable assortment of fresh red roses were the center piece of the condo—neatly placed in a cement vase piece. Not to mention all the modern art canvases were color coordinated with the room’s designated color.  

Armin closed the door behind Eren. “Oh, my gosh, thank you so much.”

Eren turned back to Armin as he was slapped with the reality that Armin was dressed in merely a dark blue tank top and a pair of black cotton shorts. He instantly came to the conclusion that he had never seen Armin less than fully clothed. Sure, he had imagined how Armin would look… nude but he never considered it happening beyond his wildest dreams. While his fantasies weren't something that he was necessarily proud of but to see it now in its unabashed glory—he was dumbfounded on how to respond.

His legs were perfectly smooth and his arms were wonderfully toned.

Eren felt his life momentarily pause as the mantra “calm down” religiously repeated in his head.

This was not the time for him to act like a vicious horn dog or someone that had never seen an inch of skin in his life. He had to demonstrate self-control—like he did on the field. Yes, treat this like the holy football field.

“You ok?” Armin asked completely ignorant of the effect that he had on Eren.

“I’m—” _having NC-17 thoughts in my head about what you and I can do instead of reviewing my taxes._ “okay.”

“Okay…” Armin said locking the front door.

Eren took off his Jordan’s and sauntered into the living room.

“My house is your house. Make yourself at home.”

Eren sat on the couch and immediately man spread and placed the brown paper bag beside him. Armin stood beside the arm of the couch and presented Eren with the remote. “For you, your majesty.” Armin smiled and Eren chuckled.

“You shouldn’t have.” Eren said taking the remote and turning on the 52’ flatscreen.

Armin looked as Eren went through the television guide. “I have all the ESPN channels.”

Eren became stone faced. “No thanks. Don’t think I need to live and breathe sports 24/7.”

“Understood.” Armin shrugged. “I have full cable with on demand. And Netflix, Hulu, and HBO Go. Do want you anything?”

Eren felt his tongue nearly slip. _A complimentary kiss would be nice_.

“Water? Coffee? Gatorade?”

“Thank you but I’m fine.”

“Sure?” Armin raised a brow.

“Yeah.”

“ _Okay_. Let me know if you change your mind.” Armin gave a toasty smile, his voice edging above a whisper. Armin’s delicacy somehow made Eren feel so at home.

“I’ll get to work. I’ll be in the dining room.” Armin walked away and Eren looked as he did—appreciating the plump buns sway all the way into the other room.

After enjoying the scenery, Eren watched a 30-minute true crime show, musing about how people went from love to murder in a few short years. After it finished, he didn’t want to watch anything else in the series, he only wanted to see how Armin was fairing with the dense tax returns.

Eren came to the table. He sat down without a word and watched Armin, pen in hand, calculator beside him, work without a word. In the meantime, they were enshrouded in comfortable silence. It wasn’t awkward or bizarre. It was actually pleasant.

Eren was mesmerized by the prominent bow of Armin’s lips and how rosy and soft his lips looked. Eren stared hard from his folded arms on the table. Armin didn't even seem to notice.

Armin blew down. He tilted his glasses on top of his head and mildly pushed his bangs out of his eyes. Eren looked up at him curiously, reaching out to touch the redline that had formed on his nose. He tapped the bridge of his nose lightly earning a small wince from the exhausted blonde.

Armin was disillusioned about how sore his nose bone was and how long he had been wearing his glasses.

“Why don’t you take a break? I brought food.”

“Um… Well.”

“I mean c’mon Armin, I don’t expect to have this done tonight.”

Armin still looked pensive.

“It’s okay. At least eat something.”

Armin conceded to Eren’s concerned convincing and let Eren retrieve the brown paper bag.

Eren unpacked all the food as Armin put all the documents away in a safe place. When he returned, he was pleasantly surprised. “Oh, my gosh, I love Thai food.”

“Me too.” Eren eagerly broke his chopsticks so he could demolish his side of the $50 worth of food. “Take as much as you want.”

Armin took a few bites of the Thai kimchi. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to like eat healthy or something?”

“When the season is out, I do,” Eren admitted, devouring the food ravenously.

“Because you don’t work out as much during off season I’m presuming.”

“Exactly. I was the same way in college. Probably not the best fitness strategy but it’s worked out so far.”

“Really? I don’t remember ever really having time to eat healthy in college. I was really just focused on living long enough to turn in my papers.”

Eren smiled. “I know that’s right.”

“When I went to college the first time, that was my main concern. My priorities changed later.”

“What could have taken precedence?”

“Working and keeping a roof over my head.”

“Of course. So…You have a grad degree?”

Armin nodded with a soft smile.

“In what?” Eren smirked, seemingly interested in just how intelligent Armin really was.

“I have an MBA.”

“Wow, that’s pretty fucking impressive.” Eren grinned.

Armin blushed rejecting his urge to reject the compliment. But then remembered that Eren Jaeger was sitting at his dining room table telling him that he was exceptional. “Thank you…”

“And you did that right after your undergrad degree?”

“Well, I took a little break after because I needed mental liberation after such prolonged pressure.”

Armin sighed. “Then after a year. I went back.”

“That’s incredible discipline. Plenty of people don’t go back.”

“You’re right… I just made a promise to myself that I would follow through with my ambitions.”

“Admirable.” Eren looked thoughtful. “How old are you anyway? If you don’t mind sharing that is.”

Armin chuckled because he knew that was about mind fuck the best quarterback player in the game. “I’m 26.”

Eren’s eyes grew into saucers. “Seriously? You’re—26? You look _younger_ than _me_.”

“Yeah. _Seriously."_  Armin took another bite of his food.               

“Wow, did I just make an ass out of myself by assuming?”

Armin laughed covering his mouth as Eren’s ears turned red. “No, no. I get it all the time. You’re not the first.”

“Sorry…” Eren apologized, wishing that he hadn’t come across as frantic as he did. It didn’t trouble him that Armin was older than he appeared or that he was older than he was. He didn’t know that his head was that far in the clouds… or up his ass. Armin was checking his assets and reviewing deductions he could claim and report to the IRS. It should have registered that he was a little more seasoned and probably older than him…

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay…. Really.” Armin waved his hand, indicating that he must have been used to commonly being mistaken for an undergrad student… and sometimes a high schooler.  Though he was wondering… “Do the glasses off help me look my age?”

Eren suppressed his laughter as he struggled to not harm Armin’s perceived youth.

“No?” Armin giggled as Eren’s dam succumbed to the pressure of the hilarity ensuing in his mind. Eren shook his head, his shoulders gently bobbing from the shockwaves of hilarity.  

“Well then.” Armin sat back in his chair.

“There’s nothing wrong with it… Just imagine… It’s different for me. I have to get to know people. There’s an entire Wikipedia and NFL page on me. And probably nothing that you can’t google about me. I’m probably boring to you.”

Armin slightly pouted, feeling a bit woeful about Eren’s assertion about him feeling uninteresting. He was a public figure that had been in the limelight since he was 17. But there was more to Eren than what the media framed his image to be.

“No, no. I’m sure there’s plenty of things that I don’t know about you,” Armin reassured. “For instance, do you pour your milk before or after you pour your cereal?”

“After,” Eren scoffed. “And anyone that doesn’t is a spawn of the devil.”

Armin laughed. “I agree…” Armin looked up to the beige ceiling, thinking. “Do you prefer to shop in person or online?”

“I would probably say in person… I don’t like to wait for things and… if I’m getting someone a gift, I think it’s a little more special for me when I go and hand pick it myself.”

“Aw, you’re old fashion,” Armin cooed.

“Definitely.” Eren smiled, noticing how deeply blue Armin’s eyes really were. “What about you?”

“Well… to be honest I probably prefer online shopping. Just for the convenience.”

“You have a point there.”

Armin licked the back of the spoon, his tongue flicking on the edge of the plastic. Eren visually patrolled the way Armin seemed to be giving the spoon such intimate attention… the type of attention that he wished that he was getting. Something roused in him that was a little more than what Armin had bargained for when he invited him into his house.

Eren checked the time on his phone. It was etching on 11 pm and he needed to get out of Armin’s house before he did something a little too… forward.

After he finished what little food he had in the container, he decided to retreat instead of making any advancements on Armin.

“So, it’s about that time.”

“Okay,” Armin said, knowing that it was courtesy to walk Eren to the door.

Eren sat down on the handy bench near the door and retied his sneakers. “Thanks for letting me come over.” He really hoped that this wasn't the last time that he saw the inside of this condo.

“My pleasure.” Armin beamed, taking a step closer. “So, we’ll set something up later?”

“Definitely.”

Without warning, Eren smoothly weaved his hand into the base of Armin’s skull and massaged his scalp at the base of his bun, blonde hair infused between his fingers. Armin's brain ceased to think and he felt his eyes roll into the back of his head.

His mouth nearly emitted a moan if he hadn’t bit his lip to cage the sound.

Had he ever said that he liked having his hair touched or stroked or anything of the like?

Wait—of course not. They haven’t discussed anything that intimate as of yet.

Then how did Eren just instinctively know?

Because it seemed like he just knew.

Eren leaned in and whispered directly in his ear, his breath fanning over the side of the blonde’s neck. “… _Goodnight_.”

“G-g-night.” Armin choked out.

Armin quaked feeling his yearning for the NFL player increase tenfold. But he wasn’t sure that he could prevent himself from caving to the snowballing temptation.

And Eren had a first down, playing Armin’s field perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eren, Eren, Eren. Armin's not the only one who is starstruck ;)
> 
> Please let me know what you thought my loves :) Anything else - strike up my Tumblr.


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